


100 Ways To Say I Love You

by AquaWolfGirl



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi Master AU, Modern AU, Original verse, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5926468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquaWolfGirl/pseuds/AquaWolfGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taken from a list on Tumblr of 100 Ways To Say I Love You, 100 little oneshots leading up to Valentine's Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. pull over. let me drive for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm insane for doing these, and thinking I can get it done before Valentine's Day. But I'm going to try my very best to get them done, and going to have fun while doing it!  
> In this little series, you'll find modern!AU, redeemed Ben Solo, original verse things, etc, as well as potentially some other fandom!verses (Harry Potter and Hunger Games, anyone?) It's basically just a hodge-podge of cuteness. Does that sound all right with all of you?  
> I'll keep it rated T, since this is supposed to be cute and fluffy and not really sexy.  
> If you have a verse that you would like to see, let me know at stoptakingmyhandx.tumblr.com and I'll see if I can throw it in there! Each one shot can be found there, as well, with its corresponding edit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> modern!AU is one of my favorites, so expect to see a lot of it. I'll post the universe at the beginning of every chapter :)

They’ve been driving for hours. She hasn’t lifted her foot off the gas pedal in who knows how long, one hand on the wheel and the other on her knee. He has control of the iPod between them, and switches the song as soon as he sees her hand twitch on her knee.

They haven’t spoken since they left the last rest stop, about three hours ago. They haven’t needed to. The silence is filled with various songs, him switching between his playlist and hers so that they’re even. They haven’t had the time to go through and make one of the songs together, yet, though they need to. 

The only light comes from the dashboard, their shared iPod and the occasional streetlamp they pass under. 

She can feel her eyelids slipping closed, the steady rhythm of golden light and the slowness of the song coming through the speakers no help at all. She pinches her knee to wake herself up, and though it works for a few moments, it’s not enough and she finds herself reaching for the RedBull on his side of the cupholder. She doesn’t drink it, she hates carbonation, but it’s energy all the same. She’ll gladly drink some in favor of not falling asleep at the wheel. 

His hand covers hers before she can wrap her fingers around the can. She chances a look at him. His entire face is cast in shadow, stark beneath the street lamps. 

“Pull over,” he tells her, voice soft. 

She does, a few minutes after he requests for her to. She sees a parking lot of a McDonalds, the inside store closed but lights still indicating an open drive through. The fluorescent lights are harsh compared to the warm of the street lights, and her eyes strain from the difference. She parks the car and lets her eyes slip closed, resting for just a moment before she has to get back on the road. 

She vaguely hears the click of his seatbelt, the click of the door as he opens it. She does hear her door opening, and turns her head to him. He’s close, closer than she’d expected him to be, but she doesn’t mind. The kiss he gives her is soft, sweet and sleepy on her end. He squeezes her hand, reaching over while his lips are still attached to hers to unbuckle her. “Let me drive for a while,” he mutters against her mouth.

She hums her agreement, giving him one more kiss before letting herself be tugged out of the seat. He’s much more awake than she is, and helps her into the passenger seat. He surrenders his hoodie to her, draping it over her after buckling her in. She hears the door close as her eyes slip closed. There’s the roar of the engine as he starts up the car again, and she hears the crackling of gravel as he pulls out of the parking lot and back onto the main road. 

A few minutes after, she feels the warmth of his hand on her knee, thumb running across the curve of her kneecap, and smiles before surrendering to sleep.


	2. it reminded me of you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone's wondering, the bracelet is one from Alex and Ani. Though I personally don't have one since bracelets annoy me while writing (and I'm writing near constantly), I've always admired their simplicity and feel that if Rey were to wear any jewelry, she'd wear something simple and meaningful instead of flashy and fancy.
> 
> Modern!AU

The bookstore’s busier than usual this afternoon, most of the patrons people looking to get out of the rain. There’s the added sweet smell of rainwater mingling with the scent of paper and ink, and she loves it despite worrying about what the moisture will do to the books. The space is small, and warm with the amount of people in it today. She’s glad she has her own little space behind the counter, her small body perched on the stool behind the cash register. 

She has her own little pile of books, set beside a cup of green tea. Most people are browsing, not buying, so she’s free to read her own books as people move throughout the shelves. It’s quiet, and cozy, and she’s comfortable until the door opens again and there’s a greasy donut bag plopped on her counter. 

She blinks down at the bag before looking up at the man standing in front of her. He pulls the hood of his hoodie back, and she can see that the front pieces of his hair that weren’t protected by fabric are wet. She reaches out and over the counter, squeezing one of the wet strands and taking amused pleasure in the drop that falls to his nose at the action. 

“Is it raining?” she questions, smirking. 

“No, it’s National Baptism Day,” he retorts, rolling his eyes and tucking a few wet strands of hair behind his ear, out of her reach. He leans on the counter, face close to hers. It’s one of the few times she’s level with him, leaning over on her stool. 

“Whatcha bring me?” she asks, moving back to peek in to the bag. She counts a dozen doughnuts from the Chelsea Market, small and covered in different types of sugar. 

“Figured you needed a bit of a treat when the weather’s this shit,” he explains, nodding to the bag. She picks one out, the pastry covered in Fruity Pebble powder, and pulls it apart. She hands the other half to him, and he takes it between cold, pale fingers gratefully. “I didn’t steal any, don’t worry.” 

She hums, and takes her bite. They’re still hot - he must’ve clutched them beneath his hoodie to keep them warm. She smiles at the rainbow colored sugar on his bottom lip, and stays still as he reaches over to brush the rainbow crumbs from her cheek gently. 

“Thanks,” she says, sincerely, tucking the rest of the bag under the counter for later. She leans over to peck him on the cheek, sure he has to get back to work, when his hand encircles her wrist. She blinks as warm metal is slipped over her hand, and stares down at the gold bracelet now encircling her wrist. He must've pulled it from his hoodie pocket when she wasn't looking, slipping it onto her wrist almost seamlessly. 

“… it’s beautiful,” she tells him, looking down at the charm of what looks like a compass.

“It’s one of those bracelets all the girls at work are obsessed with,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair nervously. “I mean, I know you don’t wear jewelry, but I saw it at the market and thought of you. It’s a Star of Venus.” He looks down at the worn wood of the counter. “It apparently means light, beauty and inspiration. Which is what you are to me." His too-big ears are tinged pink, and she knows it's not from the chill of the rain outside. 

Her heart skips a beat, and she looks down at the bracelet hanging from her wrist. It’s not a perfect fit, a bit big on her slim wrist, but the meaning’s beautiful to her and she smiles down at the sight of the charm spinning on the ring of the bracelet. “… really?” 

She looks up in time to see him shrug, high cheekbones flushed pink as well, now. “Well, yeah.” 

She has to lean over the counter, the edge pressing painfully into her hips, to kiss him properly. He meets her halfway, and she can practically feel the heat of his blush as she kisses him, smiling against his lips. 

“Thanks,” she mutters. 

“It just reminded me of you,” he says, somewhat defensively. “It’s nothing, really, I just-“

“Shut up and let me kiss you.”


	3. no, no, it's my treat.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern!AU

She knows full well it’s not the worst day she’s had, and as bad days go it’s not high up on the scale. But that doesn’t stop her from feeling shitty as she collapses on her bed and groans into her pillow. She’s strong as nails and she knows it, but sometimes things get to be too much, even for her. 

She woke up late and missed half her shift at the library, only to be chewed out by her boss there. Her time of month surprised her a day early, prompting her to walk hurriedly to her room back across campus to get spare clothes after her shift let out. And then her class after that ran fifteen minutes over, and that made her late for her next shift at the woodshop. Her boss hadn’t scolded her there, but the glare he’d given her as she walked in 50 minutes late was enough to make her cheeks blush in shame. Her homework for her evening class went unfinished thanks to some idiot freshman not knowing how to use any of the woodshop equipment, and she’d had to turn it in for half a point when it was worth ten. 

By the time she returned to her dorm, tears were burning behind her eyes and she wanted nothing more than to put on her comfiest sweatpants, loosest shirt and curl up under twelve dozen blankets with a heating pad. Maybe she can convince Finn to bring her some Reeses from the vending machine, if she promises to pay him back. The idea of walking down the stairwell to the machines makes her whimper. 

She gets up and moves to her closet, pulling out the comfiest pants she can find and tossing them on her bed. She strips herself of her somewhat professional clothes, tossing them into the hamper as she looks for a shirt.

She’s halfway dressed, in a lounge bra and her sweatpants, when there’s a knock at her door. Too tired and done to really care that she could flash the entire hallway, she yanks open the door and glares at the person who’d knocked. “What?” she demands, voice harsh. 

Ben blinks at her, both her backpack and his swung over his shoulder. He pulls hers off and offers it to her. “You left this in class,” he explains, nodding to the brown canvas backpack. 

She resists the urge to smack her head against the doorframe. Oh, God. She blushes furiously, taking it and clutching it to her chest. Never mind that he’s her best friend, sometimes with benefits. She just opened the door in her bra and sweatpants. “… sorry,” she mutters. “It’s been a rough day.” 

“I can tell.” He pushes his way into her room, pulling the door closed behind him. “What happened?” 

“It’s nothing,” she mumbles into her backpack before putting it beside the door. “I mean, it’s not as bad as it could’ve gone, and I know people have had way, way worse, but it was still … not really great.” 

He settles himself into the bungey chair she’d bought off of a freshman who’d anticipated more room in their tiny dorm. He looks way too big for it, limbs folding awkwardly as he sits in it. His ass almost hits the floor, the bungies no match for his lanky frame. “What happened?” 

She tells him as she continues her search for a shirt to put on, bending and rummaging through her drawers for the softest one she knows of. She frowns when it’s not there. “I was late for work - both shifts, and turned in an incomplete homework, and then my period came early, and now I can’t find my damn Jakku shirt!” she insists, downright ready to cry. She’s strong. She knows she is. And she doesn’t usually let things get to her like this, but she’s just done for the day. 

She hears the creak of the bungey chair, and then feels his warmth behind her. She feels soft cotton being pressed into her hands, and turns to see the shirt in his grasp. 

“It was on your bed,” he explains. “You must’ve worn it to bed last night and left it there.” 

That’s right. She did. She sighs softly, tugging it over her head before leaning her forehead on his chest. “Sorry,” she mutters. 

His hand finds her neck, stroking the hair that’s come out of its buns. “Everyone has shitty days,” he mutters, his other hand finding hers. She feels him press a kiss to the top of her head. “C’mon. Get shoes on. We’re going out.” 

“Ben, I just changed into clothes that aren’t really appropriate for going out,” she mumbles against the fabric of his t-shirt. 

“I don’t mean out out,” he insists. “Just … out.” He bends to grab her flipflops, abandoned at the door, and offers them to her. “C’mon.” 

“Ben-“

“Please?” The flipflops are pressed into her hands. 

Rey sighs, dropping the shoes to the floor and slipping her feet into them. “All right, fine.” 

-

He doesn’t tell her where they’re going. He just assures her it’s somewhere, he promises. She snorts and snaps that that doesn’t help her.  
She zones out after a few moments, watching the fields and small college town zip by as he drives down the main road. They’re heading out of the town and towards the main city, she knows, and she turns to open her mouth in protest when he turns left. 

She doesn’t know this road. She frowns, acknowledging the unfamiliar surroundings. There are a few restaurants she’s never seen before, a furniture store with a few cars in the parking lot. She can spot the entrances to a few neighborhoods, but aside from that it’s pretty barren. 

“Where are we going?” she asks for probably the dozenth time since she slid into his junky old Honda. 

“You’ll see.” 

She knows full well that if she asks again, that’s all she’ll get as an answer. She just sighs and lets her head rest against the window, watching the green and brown of their surroundings zip by. 

Rey straightens when he puts his blinker on, and stares as he turns into a small strip center. There’s a Target, tiny compared to others she’s seen, and a grocery store, and a few other shops. He finds a parking place and walks around to her side before she can even open the door, too absorbed in the surroundings. 

“I don’t think I’ve been here,” she insists, frowning as he opens the door for her. She steps out, observing. 

“Most of the students go to the other Target that’s a bit closer,” he explains. “The Super one, you know?”

She nods. She, Finn and Poe go almost every weekend. “Yeah, I know.” 

“This one’s kind of been forgotten,” he explains. “But that’s not why we’re here.” He reaches for her hand, and she lets him take it. His hand’s too big to hold hers properly, but they make it work somehow and she lets him lead her to a strip of small shops. She brightens once she sees the red and white Coldstone logo. “Is that -“ 

“Ice cream,” Ben says decidedly, stepping up onto the curb and dragging her with him. 

She grins, leaning against his shoulder. Despite the chill of early spring, ice cream sounds fantastic. He opens the door for her and gestures her in. She shivers, the thin t-shirt doing nothing to shield her skin from the chill of the ice cream parlor. He sees the goosebumps on her skin and strips himself of his hoodie, draping the zip-up around her shoulders. She sticks her arms through, the sleeves coming down all the way to her fingertips. But it’s warm, and shields her from the AC, so she snuggles into it as she looks up at the signature creations the ice cream shop offered. 

She feels him behind her, his hands holding her hips gently as he rests his chin on top of her head. “What are you going for?” 

“Either coffee, chocolate, or cinnamon,” she mutters, leaning back against him and letting him support her weight. He hums his approval.

“You can get all three, if you want,” he tells her, and she grins. 

In the end, she creates her own - a heaping pile of chocolate and coffee ice cream, brownies, Heath bar, and a squirt of chocolate syrup on top. He smirks as she watches them make it, bouncing on her toes despite the fact that the extremities are pretty much numb due to the chill of the store. She takes the waffle-cone bowl gratefully from the cashier, reaching for her wallet. He has to rush to the register to stop her, grabbing the wallet from her and sticking it right back in her sweatpants pocket. 

“No, no. It’s my treat,” he insists, handing his card over to pay for them both. She stares at him for a moment, feeling herself get a little angry. She can take care of herself, she can pay for herself - she always has. But then he drops a kiss to the top of her head, and she looks down at her ice cream before looking back at him. She leans up to press a sticky, chocolate-y kiss to his jaw. She waits patiently as he gets his own strawberry cheesecake creation from the girl behind the counter, and bumps her hip against his thigh as they leave, smiling down into her bowl. 

“Thank you,” she says, keeping close to him as they walk back to the car. 

He just shrugs his response, turning as pink as his ice cream when she presses another sticky kiss to the skin of his cheek.


	4. come here. let me fix it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> redeemed!Ben Solo, set place after he and Rey have defeated Snoke and everything is right again. the ship in question is the Millennium Falcon, in case it's not obvious.

“Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!” 

It’s the third time this week that something’s gone wrong on the ship. Honestly, it was a piece of junk long before he was born, and that hasn’t changed throughout the time he's been alive. In fact, he’s wishing that she would’ve just left it in the junkyard where it belongs. The ship is falling apart, panels becoming loose and warped and parts just refusing to work anymore. 

He pushes up at the ceiling panel that keeps falling back into place, holding it and trying to get it to stay closed despite the fact that it’s damaged and now too small for its original place. His efforts are successful, at least for the time being, and it stays in place for more than 30 seconds. He backs away slowly, hands up and ready to catch the panel again. When it shows no sign of moving, he lets himself take a breath as he moves back towards the lounge seat. 

He groans, sitting by and banging his head against the holochess table. The game comes to life immediately, and he has to spend a good ten minutes trying to get it to turn off again. What was once a fun game is now merely a nuisance, turning on in the middle of the night with no prompting and refusing to turn off. He ends up punching the table, growling at it until the pieces flicker out of reality. 

“What’d the table do to you?” 

She sounds amused. He’s not in the mood for it. He just growls again, resting his head against the table as gently as he can so as not to trigger the game again. 

He hears her walk over. Then there are fingers in his hair, pulling free the leather tie and then running through his dark locks. He moans softly at the sensation, titling his head so that she has better access. He hears her snort at his response, but he doesn’t care. She continues, massaging his scalp and playing with his hair as she settles beside him. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Everything,” he mutters. “The ship’s falling apart. It’ll be ready for the trash heap soon. I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve replaced so much of it, it should run fine. But it’s not, and I don’t know what to do.” 

His father would kill him for considering sending it to the trash heap. If the man could come back to life, that is. There's a pang of regret, deep and throbbing, at that thought. 

The hand moves to his neck, fingers making their way through the shorter hairs there. He's pulled back from his dark thoughts by her soft eyes and confident smile, bright as a sun. “I’ll fix it.” 

“I don’t know what else you can do!” he insists. “Rey, the entire thing, the entire inside has been pretty much replaced, and yet it just refuses to work properly. Face it - it’s done.” He looks back down at the worn table, dinged and scratched from who-knows how many reckless flights and time in battle. 

“It’s not done,” she insists, standing and pulling her hand from his hair, much to his dismay. “It has a lot more years to go, Ben Solo. Don’t you dare suggest she’s dying on us.” 

“Even though she is?” he protests weakly, turning his head to look up at her. 

Damn. She looks hot when she's pissed off, he thinks, with her hands on her hips. Thanks to the bond, he knows she hears his thought. She turns red a second after he thinks it and crosses her arms over her chest in annoyance.

“That did nothing but push your chest up,” he mutters, admiring her more. She gives up, throwing her hands in the air before letting them fall to her sides. 

“We’re going to fix it,” she insists. “And you’re going to help me. Come here, let me fix it.” 

He groans, pushing himself out of the seat. “Rey, it’s-“ 

“If you say she’s a lost cause, then I’m going put a blaster bolt in your foot,” she insists. “Everyone thought you were a lost cause, didn’t they?” 

He gives her a look. “Don’t compare me to a hunk of metal.” 

“Well, you’re still a hunk.” 

He blinks at her. “… you did not just do that.” 

She smirks. 

"You've been spending way too much time with Dameron," he mutters, shaking his head. 

She moves to stand in front of him, looking up at him. Her face softens. “We can fix it, okay? I can fix it. You just need to hand me tools, all right?” She pokes his cheek. “C’mon, let’s go see what we can do. What needs fixing?” 

He opens his mouth just as the panel becomes loose. He winces as the thin sheet of metal lands directly on his left shoulder, bouncing off and falling to the floor with a loud ‘clang!’ Rey stares at it, and he can tell by the way she's biting her lip that she's trying not to laugh at him and his pain.

“… that.”


	5. have a good day at work.

5 in the morning is not the ideal time to wake up. She’d much rather 10, or 11, at the very least. But years of being on Jakku have taught her to rise with the sun, and as light spills through the blinds, her eyes open. She can feel his arm across her waist, caging her in.

Work starts at 7, for her. She has ample time to go to the fresher, maybe even grab some breakfast from the dining hall and bring some back for him. She tries to move down, to duck under the strong arm holding her down. She’s done it many times before, slipping out at the crack of dawn. But this morning’s apparently different. She’s halfway out when his arm tightens, bringing her flush against his chest with a strength that she knew he had but he didn’t exercise often. 

“Kylo,” she hisses, pushing at his chest and testing the edge of his consciousness. To her surprise, he’s still asleep. The bond is clear, no resistance as he pulls her tighter to him. It’s strange to have him so open like this, and she actually relishes it for a moment, looking up at him. He has worse bedhead than Poe does, and that’s a feat and a half. She smirks as she reaches up to run her fingers through it, tucking a few wayward strands behind one of his big ears. He hums, leaning into her touch, but doesn’t wake. 

As cute as he is, she really does need to go. She tries to make herself as small as she can so that she can slip out. His grip on her tightens. She groans softly, pushing at his chest. It doesn’t work – despite her mental strength, he’s stronger physically, and it’s like pushing against a wall of durasteel. 

She’d tried. 

She huffs irritably, curling into him. “Fine. You win.” 

She feels more than hears his chuckling, startling at the way his chest vibrates against hers and the feeling of lips pressed against her hair. “You know you don’t have to go to work for another two hours, right?” His voice is groggy with sleep, low and rough. She rests her head against his chest. 

“I know, but it’s two hours I could be in the fresher, getting food for me, getting food for you…” 

He kisses her forehead. “It’s also two hours you could sleep more.” 

“You know I can’t. I'm awake, now.” 

“Then at least stay with me.” 

“Kylo-“

“Please?” 

“Oh, stars, Kylo, not those eyes, don’t- oh, fine.” 

-

She doesn’t have time to get breakfast. She barely has time to hop in the fresher, and when she emerges she finds that the asshole – her asshole, but an asshole – has hidden her Resistance uniform. It takes her fifteen minutes to get into his head and realize that he’s actually laying on it, and another ten to convince him to get off of it so she can put him on (because just pushing him off would never, ever work when he has muscles like that). 

By the time she finishes getting dressed, she’s already five minutes late. She glares at him in the mirror as she runs a brush through her hair and ties it up, glare intensifying when he just smirks back. 

“I hate you,” she mutters. 

“I know.”

He walks over as she’s putting her tools in her bag, heading down to the hangars to recover working scrap from some of the downed X-wings they’d recovered. She instinctively leans back against him when he hugs her from behind, forgetting momentarily that she’s mad at him. She straightens when he presses a kiss to her neck, trying to pull out of his arms. He just holds her tighter, trying to keep her from squirming. 

“Would you stop?” he growls. “I just wanted to tell you something.” 

“What?” 

He presses a kiss to her cheek. “Have a good day at work.” 

She softens, turning her head to kiss his shoulder. She can’t reach his lips, not quite, so his bare shoulder will just have to do. He’s reluctant to let her go after that, but eventually releases her to her work. She leaves with a kiss to his cheek (she has to pull him down a few inches for it to work, him chuckling at her tugging his arm).


	6. i'll walk you home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> teacher and student!AU for those who like that (I know I do)

It's around 5:30 when the skies open. The entire lecture class hears it, the sudden roar of water on the ceiling of the auditorium. Rey bites her lip as there are several groans. It’s been threatening to pour all day, but she’d hoped that it would hold off at least until she got to the dorm. She has no umbrella, no raincoat, and for once she doesn’t have Finn’s (actually Poe’s) jacket to hold over her head, him having stolen it back for their date last night. 

The man standing at the front of the room gives the groaners a glare sharp enough to kill, and they silence immediately. Rey scoots down in her seat a little, not wanting to evoke Professor Ren’s wrath. She’s seen it before, other people having been almost literally attacked by the professor. But he teaches the class well enough, and no one dares to approach administration about his attitude towards the student body. 

She taps her foot on the ground, ever-so-lightly, dreading when the class lets out. They have about a half hour left, and she doubts that it’ll be over by the time he lets them go. It’s too heavy, too drowning. 

She spends the rest of the class only half paying attention, instead listening to the steady drum of water on the roof. It’s a soothing sound, normally. She’s unused to this much rain, having grown up in the desert. When she’d first heard it, it scared the shit out of her. Now, it calms her, usually. Until now. 

Rey sighs, mentally thinking about which route she could possibly take back to her dorm that doesn’t require too much time in the open air. Unfortunately, there aren’t many, and even if she takes then it’ll take twice or even three times as long to get to her room.  
She vaguely hears Professor Ren wrapping up, and the impatient shuffling of students. Most of them can duck into their cars and drive to their apartments, but she doesn’t have that luxury. 

When it’s time to leave, she takes her time. She organizes her case, pencils going into the bag then highlighters then pens. She slips her books into her bag, biting her lip before shedding her hoodie in favor of protecting her laptop and papers a bit more. 

“Rey?” 

She startles, turning to find Professor Ren standing there, smirking and raising an eyebrow at her curiously. A quick glance around the room proves that everyone else has left, the classroom abandoned except for them. 

“Yes?” she asks. 

“You missed the exodus,” he teases, jerking his head towards the door. She can hear people bustling out into the lobby, the rustling of umbrellas and the crinkling of raincoats. 

She plays with one of the clips on her backpack. “I’m hoping to wait it out, sir.” 

“That’s not happening. It’ll go all night at this rate.” 

She knows full well it’s not, she’ll be stuck here if she actually waited, but shrugs in response. She checks one more time, ensuring that her hoodie is tucked protectively over her books and laptop, and then swings her backpack over her shoulders. “Have a good night, sir,” she says, starting towards the door. 

“Let me walk you home.” 

She stops, frowning and turning to look at the professor. He looks as dreary as the day, wearing all black as per usual, pale hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. She sees the umbrella tucked into the pocket of his leather briefcase, and thinks. “… no, thank you,” she says, adding the ‘thank you’ on as an afterthought, not wanting to be impolite. 

He towers over her, she realizes. She hasn’t been this close to him before, always back in the 7th row with him at the board. She’d known he’s tall, but hadn’t realized that he’s quite this tall. “I insist.” 

“It’s really okay,” she says, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine, really. Besides - you probably want to get back to your car and head home before the roads get too bad.” 

“I live in the faculty apartments.” 

“It’s too far across campus.” 

“We’re going the same way.” 

“I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It wouldn’t be any trouble.” 

She grips her bag a bit tighter, shaking her head. “Really, it’s fine, Professor,” she insists. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.” She turns on her heel and walks out, closing the door of the auditorium behind her. 

-

 

He was right. There’s no sign it’s letting up. She’s soaked within thirty seconds, her shirt and skirt clinging to her. She clutches at her forearms, trying to keep warm as she hurries down the sidewalk. She’s grateful she tucked her things in her hoodie, but with the amount of water coming from the sky, she’s not sure it’ll be all that helpful. 

She makes it about halfway across the quad before she hears splashing behind her. She moves to the side to keep from getting in someone’s way, head bowed against the water. She stops when the water does, shoulders and head now sheltered from the rain.  
She turns to see a pale hand holding the handle of a big black umbrella, her professor standing next to her. 

“I insist,” he mutters. 

She stares up at him, but can’t deny the protection that the umbrella gives from the rain. He takes a step forward, and she follows. It’s awkward, and her right shoulder’s sometimes victim to the water falling from the sky thanks to their different strides, but they manage a somewhat steady pace on the way back to the freshman dorm. 

“Are you continuing with Gothic literature next semester?” he questions as they get closer. 

She shakes her head. “I have to take more science classes,” she explains. “I … really just took it to get the credit.” 

He nods, seemingly understandingly. “I see.” His tone indicates that it’s not the first time he’s been told this, and she feels a soft pang of guilt. 

“Why do you ask?” 

His shoulder bumps into hers, and he apologizes almost gruffly to her. She brushes it off with, “It’s no problem,” and waits for his response. 

It comes after a moment of awkward silence. “Because I was wondering if you would possibly like to get a coffee sometime.” 

She nearly trips into a puddle, the water splashing up onto her bare legs. He clutches her elbow, keeping her from tumbling towards the ground. 

Rey stares in confusion. “… isn’t that against policy, though?” 

“Only if you’re my student,” he informs her, voice barely above a murmur. 

She becomes aware that they’ve stopped. They’re standing in the middle of the path, him holding the umbrella high above them both. She can feel the rain splattering against her forearms where the umbrella isn’t covering, can feel her shoes getting soaked with rainwater. It’s windy, and cold, and she’s sure her clothes and hair are clinging to her in a way that can’t possibly be attractive.

“… email me when the semester ends?” she asks, offering him a soft smile.

His face is one of complete and utter shock, and she resists the urge to snort at how comical it is. Combined with his too-big ears and prominent nose, he looks more like a mask than a man. It's a bit endearing, really, and she can't bring herself to regret saying yes to his offer.

“I’ll see you in class, then,” she says, assuming that they were done. To her surprise, he falls into step with her. 

“Please, let me walk you home. I’m not far from you, really.” 

She hides her smile as best as she can (and her best isn’t very good). “All right, Mr. Ren.” 

“Call me Kylo.”


	7. i dreamt about you last night.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grey Jedi!AU  
> Yes, I'm aware they don't have paper in Star Wars canon, but the idea of Rey doodling succulents and vines and flowers in a meeting was too cute to pass up.

She’s bored. So, so incredibly bored. Perhaps more bored than she was during the sandstorms of Jakku, caught inside for days at a time. The senator’s voice is akin to a drone - monotone and sleep-inducing. She reminds herself to thank the General for the borrowed pen. The pages in front of her are covered in small little doodles, mostly green things she’d seen on D'Qar, but a few small plants as well in tiny pots. The holopad in front of her displays the presentation at the front of the room, as if the screen wasn’t big enough already. 

She adds another petal to the flower she’s drawing, just on the verge of sleep when she feels him. It’s late in the morning, and she smiles as she feels his drowsiness through the bond. She’d had to leave early for the meeting, dressed in the finery required of someone who represented the Grey Jedi of the Force. Wariness was common when it came to her and Ben’s affiliation, people so used to there being a right and a wrong - a Dark and a Light. She had to look as professional and powerful as possible in order to make an impression. 

_So the sleeping prince awakes._

She smirks as his end of the bond flares in annoyance.

 _I let you sleep,_ she reminds him. _You could be the one in here, and I could’ve slept. Or we could both be in here. But no, I lied to your own mother for you so you could sleep late._

Annoyance flares again, but this time there’s an underlying tone of affection. She bites on the end of her pen, pretending to be interested in the senator’s presentation. 

_I dreamt about you last night._

She raises her eyebrows, thankfully in tandem to something the senator said. She nods her understanding when he looks her way, and looks back down to her drawings when he looks towards the other side of the room. _Did you really?_

_I did. I dreamt that your dress was on our floor instead of on you._

She almost breaks the pen. _Ben!_

_You’re wearing that grey one, aren’t you?_

_I’m wearing robes, Ben. The grey dress is still in the closet. It’s a meeting with a senator, not anything fancy._

She laughs at the disappointment she feels from him, and covers it with a few coughs. She can feel the look from the General sitting beside her, and smiles at the rest of the room looking at her in concern. Leia wordlessly pushes a glass of water towards her, and gives her a knowing look before turning her attention back to the senator. 

_You’re awful,_ she tells him as she takes a sip of water to keep up the act.

_And you’re horrible for leaving me here, alone in our room, by myself._

_By yourself is the definition of alone, yes._

She almost snorts again at the flare of irritation, but keeps her cool and instead allows herself a small smile aimed at the table. 

_I want you back here. Now._

_Ben, I can’t just leave._

_Yes, you can. You’re one of the most powerful Force users in the galaxy. They’ll understand._

_I fail to see how my being able to use the Force is an excuse to leave a very important meeting._

_Tell them you can feel that I’m sick._

_I’m not going to lie to your mother again, Ben!_

She’s getting annoyed with him now, and allows him to feel it on her end of the bond. 

_Rey. I need you._

_No._

_Rey._

_NO._

_Please?_

And that opens the floodgates. She gasps as he sends her a sense of crushing loneliness, of abandonment. She knows full well that those are old emotions, pushed to the back and not often felt. She knows damn well that he’s playing with her, that he doesn’t actually feel those and that he’s just trying to guilt-trip her into coming to him. _Ben Organa!_

 _Rey … please …_

Most of the room had looked up at her gasp, and she gives them the best concerned look she can. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I just … I felt Ben … he’s very sick …”

_You’re a shit actress, you know that, right?_

She clenches her fist against the table. “I’m so sorry,” she apologizes again, standing and closing the holopad. “I have to go.” She looks down at the General, not sure what to expect. 

Of all the emotions she was predicting, barely concealed amusement was not one of them. Leia smirks and nods, waving her off. “I’ll catch you up later.” 

Rey resists the urge to swoop down and kiss the woman’s cheek, instead gathering the holopad and her collection of drawings into her arms and nodding formally to the senator before rushing from the room. 

_You’re going to pay for this,_ she informs him, trying to look worried as she rushes through the hallways of the new palace. 

_You’re going to get acting lessons._

_Do you want me to turn around, Ben Organa?_

_No._

_Then don’t you complain._

She reaches their room in record time, opening the door and stepping inside. Almost immediately the door closes behind her and she’s pulled into his arms. She was expecting heat, but instead she gets a steady warmth as he envelops her. He presses his full lips to her neck, just holding her close to him. The holopad and papers fall to the floor, the holopad hitting with a ‘crack’. 

“You could’ve just told me you missed me,” she mutters quietly, head tucked against his chest. 

“What’s the fun in that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey's meeting outfit: http://attackoftheclothes.tumblr.com/post/138444664442/jedi-robes-for-jocasta-nu-back-when-she-was-a
> 
> Rey's dress that Ben mentions and will be making an appearance at some point in these drabbles: (imagine it in grey): http://attackoftheclothes.tumblr.com/post/135610798784/ceremonial-gown-for-rey-roberto-cavalli-spring


	8. take my seat.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> modern!AU with established relationship.

The ride to the emergency room is far too long. She’s entirely sure she breaks at least 3 traffic laws on the way there, running at least one red light. It’s 3 in the morning, anyway, why would they need a red light when there’s nobody on the road? 

“Rey, calm down,” Poe tries, holding onto Finn in the backseat. “He’s fine for the moment, all right? You don’t need to get seven tickets on the way to the hospital.” 

“Fine?!” she demands. “Poe, his bone is-“ 

“Don’t talk about it,” Finn mumbles, adrenaline wearing off and exhaustion taking over. He’s cradled in Poe’s arms, his wrist close to his chest. Poe presses a kiss to the man’s head. Finn just whimpers in response. 

Rey floors it. 

-

Ben’s still in flannel pajama bottoms, and she can see that he’s not wearing a shirt beneath the zip-up he’s wearing. He’s wearing flip-flops, the shoes slapping against the tile of the hospital floor as he looks for her. She pushes herself off of the wall, rushing towards him. He grabs her, holding her against his side as Poe walks by with Finn, going straight to the front desk. 

The emergency room is entirely too busy for 3 in the morning. Rey paces, biting her thumb nail as Poe sits cross-legged on the floor beside Finn, who’s sitting next to Ben. The small room is filled with people. Small town, small emergency room waiting area. Figures. 

She stops to watch the TV for a moment, some telenovela playing on some back channel. The subtitles are way off, so she turns away and starts to pace again. 

“Rey, you’re going to make a hole in the carpet,” Ben warns from his seat. He’d apparently arrived ten minutes before them, even forging Poe’s handwriting on the sign-in. It was by sheer dumb luck that they got there before he was called back. 

“Don’t care,” she mutters.

“Rey, it’ll be okay,” Poe assures her, hand rubbing at Finn’s back.

She sighs, shaking her head. She knows it’ll be okay. It’s Finn. He always pulls through. “I know, I just-“ 

“Dameron?” one of the nurses calls, and Poe hops up from the floor, taking Finn’s elbow. Finn hisses as the contact jostles his wrist. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Poe mumbles, looking towards Rey. “Want to come with us or-“ 

She shakes her head. “I’ll stay here.” 

Poe nods, and guides his husband back towards where the nurse is waiting. Rey watches them go, biting at her thumb nail again - a bad habit from years in the orphanage. 

She turns as her hand is grabbed. Ben pulls her closer, spreading his legs a bit so that she can step between them. He pulls her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. “Calm down,” he says, voice deep and dulcet. “He’ll be fine, okay?” 

She nods. 

“Judging by the look of it, it was a clean break,” he says softly. “C’mere, take my seat.” He moves to stand, but she shakes her head and pushes him back down by his broad shoulders. 

“No, I can’t sit,” she explains, shaking her head before pulling herself from his grasp. She starts to pace again, occasionally stopping to look over at him before continuing her path. 

-

She paces until her legs cramp.

“C’mere,” he mutters, opening his arms to her. She falls into his lap, curling up against him. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close. She lets out a deep sigh through her nose, reaching up to pull the zipper of his hoodie down a bit. When enough bare skin is revealed, she turns and rests her cheek against his chest, closing her eyes as he strokes his hand up and down her side.

-

They’re there for another two hours. Ben brings a portable charger out from his hoodie pocket, and lets her charge her phone. He watches her as she plays Candy Crush, suggesting moves to her and kissing her temple when she wins another level. 

Poe emerges after the third hour. Rey practically tumbles off of Ben’s lap in her eagerness to hear news. The ex-pilot shakes his head. 

“We’re going to be here for a while,” he explains. “Go home.”

“Poe-“ 

“They say it isn’t too bad, but they’re going to examine it, and they’re doing an MRI, too,” he explains. “It’ll be another few hours.”

Rey passes over the keys to her car, and Ben passes over the charger and the corresponding wall plug so that they can keep in touch. She didn’t realize how much the night took out of her until she’s walking out of the emergency room, Ben practically holding her up. She’s tucked into his side, his arm around her shoulders as he leads her to where his motorbike’s waiting. The sky’s getting lighter, a testimony to how long they were there. She yawns, almost tripping over Ben’s feet. He snorts, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before handing her her helmet. She’s so tired she doesn’t know what to do with it, and he puts it on her head instead. 

He’s warm as she rests herself against his back, wrapping her arms around his waist. He reaches a hand down to squeeze her hands before putting both on the handlebars. 

“Hey, stay awake for me, okay?” he asks. “I don’t want you falling off.” 

She hums her assent, bonking her helmet against his. “I won’t,” she assures him. 

“He’ll be okay.” 

“I know.” 

“… I love you.”

“… I know.”


	9. i saved a piece for you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> modern and cop!AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I missed my Valentine's Day deadline thanks to having surgery on Friday, and sleeping off the anesthesia for a longer time than originally planned. Oh well. This list is still going to get finished, damn it! It's my little break in between the other, longer stories I'm writing/planning.

This was not how she’d wanted her wedding night to end. 

She reaches across the tub, pulling the plug up to let water spiral down and out. She waits until it’s just below her hips before reaching forward again, stopping the plug and starting to refill the tub with hotter water. The bubbles she’d put earlier in are almost all gone, but she’s cold and she doesn’t want to fall into their bed without him.

Her laptop’s balanced on top of the nearby sink, livestreaming the hostage situation downtown. She watches, heart clenching in her chest every time she sees broad shoulders and dark hair. 

They hadn’t even made it through their first dance. She guesses she’s lucky they managed to get through the ceremony before the entire team - best men, groom, and mother-in-law included - were called out to deal with the situation. Dire, they were told. An emergency. Over 340 people inside the building when it was taken over by the gunmen. 

She pulls her knees up to her chest so her toes aren’t burned by the scalding water, watching with rapt attention as the news cameras jolt from one officer to another. She recognizes Finn’s hands, those hands that held her close right before she walked down the aisle, now gripping a gun trained on the doors. She breathes a sigh of relief when she recognizes the bulk of the bulletproof vest beneath his uniform, now certain her new husband’s wearing one as well. 

She curls up, resting her chin on her knees as she watches the scene unfold. Water sloshes over the tub as the sound of gunfire erupts from her tinny laptop speakers, almost splashing her computer. She clings to the edge of the tub as she watches them go in from a shitty cam feed, biting her lip as she recognizes three of the officers moving in.

This was really not how she’d wanted her wedding night to end. 

-

Somewhere between them rescuing the hostages and now, she’d fallen asleep. As soon as they gave the all clear, she’d sighed and let her head drop to the edge of the tub in relief. They were okay. The only casualties were on the side of the inexperienced gunmen’s, two dead from errant fire. There were injuries, quite a few, but none life-threatening, said the newscaster. It was over in a matter of hours thanks to Leia's instruction and the gunmen's lack of planning. She let her eyes close, resting back against the towel she’d rolled up to cushion her head. 

The water’s cold by the time she wakes. She can feel his eyes on her from the doorway, and turns her head to look at him. 

He’s stripped his uniform, leaning against the frame in a tight black t-shirt and loose grey sweatpants. He doesn’t look hurt, she thinks. Just sad. 

“How long have you been watching me?” she asks softly, looking up at him. 

“About five minutes,” he says. He pushes himself off of the doorframe and starts towards her, kneeling beside the tub. She shifts, crossing her arms and propping them on the side of the tub. She rests her chin on her hands as he looks up at her. 

“I’m sorry.” 

In response to his apology, she contorts herself to kiss him. She pushes herself up against the edge so that she can push her lips against his. He sighs against her lips, kissing her back. She hums as his calloused hand moves up to cup her cheek, fingertips brushing against the damp strands of hair that have escaped her wedding updo. 

“At least we got through the ceremony,” she mutters against her lips before pulling away and settling back into the tub. “We could’ve been halfway through our vows?” 

He snorts, and she reaches out to stroke the scar that cuts across his pale face. “We could’ve gotten through our entire wedding.” 

“I’ve learned to take what I can get when it comes to your time,” she admits, running her hand through his hair. He leans into her touch, and she smiles brightly. “I saved a piece of cake for you.” 

“Did you?” 

“Uh huh. It’s in the fridge.” 

“Do you mind-?” 

She pulls her hand back and waves him off. “Go, go.” 

He snorts, shaking his head. “Not what I was asking,” he says, leaning forward to kiss her again. “I was going to ask if you minded moving to the bed.” 

“… that works too.” 

The tub’s drained, and she borrows one of his shirts to sleep in like usual. It’s a far cry from the lingerie she saved up for that's now left on the bathroom floor, but it’s a lot more cozy and more _them_.

He eats their wedding cake in bed. She doesn’t chastise him for getting crumbs on the covers, instead just watching him, her head propped up on her hand. 

This really wasn’t how she imagined her wedding night to go, but when it comes to them, she’ll take what she can get.


	10. i'm sorry for your loss.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> modern!AU. this was perhaps the most fun chapter to write.

He’s an ass. An absolute, irredeemable ass. 

“You’re late,” she hisses as he slides in beside her, tucked in between the people gathered for the service.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find my black shoes, all right?” he hisses back, standing beside her in his entirely black outfit that matches everyone's at the service. Only Poe has some color, his tie bright orange against his black suit.

“All the shoes you own are black!” 

She remains quiet after that, watching as Finn and Poe stand and deliver words. She bows her head at the proper moments, closing her eyes and bidding the deceased an easy ascent into heaven. Kylo’s a somber presence beside her, and she casts a quick glance upward to see that his head is bowed as well, pale hands clasped in front of him. 

There are no programs, no documentation of the event. Just the memories of those who loved him. 

She shuffles awkwardly as the service goes on and on, her feet starting to ache in the one pair of heels she owns. Ben reaches around and wraps an arm around her waist, prompting her to lean against him to relieve the balls of her feet of some of her weight. She takes the offer gratefully, resting her head on his shoulder as Poe delivers the final words. 

“… you have no idea how much Finn and I loved you, BB-17. It was a pleasure to have you as our fish, and we will miss you dearly.” 

She elbows Kylo hard as an undignified snort escapes him. He covers it with some kind of half cough-half sob, and she glares up at him. “Ass,” she mutters under her breath as the service ends with the betta fish in the ground. Finn and Poe lead the way back to the house, Rey and Kylo trailing behind. 

“Rey, this is the third this month,” he protests as he helps her walk across the grass. “It’s a marvel BB-8’s still alive.” 

“BB-8’s a corgi, Kylo. Dogs have different lifespans than fish do.” 

“I kept Hux alive for eight years, thank you. And yet they’ve gone through 9-17 in fish over the course of a year. Also, they really need a new naming system.”

She rolls her eyes, starting to walk away from him. She yelps softly as he pulls her back, her heels sinking into the ground and trapping her. She glares at him as he kisses her temple. 

“I’m sorry for your loss, all right?” he asks softly. “I know how much BB-19-“ 

“17.” 

“Right. 17. I know how much he meant to you. After all you fed him, what, once? Twice? A truly emotional connection."

She snorts, shaking her head and pulling her heels out of the ground. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“So says the person friends with the couple who name their fish BB-insert number here.”


	11. you can have half.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> modern and parent!AU

Rey’d completely forgotten about the Valentine’s Day bake sale. Thankfully, her husband had not. 

The beeping of the oven wakes her up from her much deserved post-children nap. She frowns, sitting up in bed and looking at the clock - 7pm. She already made dinner, and she’d fed both children and husband. So what was cooking? 

It hits her as she walks down the stairs, the smell of brownies smacking her in the face like a freight train. Her eyes widen as she remembers tomorrow’s date, the image of the red and pink flyer appearing behind her eyes. Shit. She’d forgotten entirely.

“Young man, that is not powdered sugar, that’s flour, that won’t taste good - what did I just say?” 

Her son’s disgusted “pleh!” comes about two seconds later, and she smirks on the stairwell, just out of view from those in the kitchen. 

“I told you so,” her husband retorts. 

She can hear the clattering of a plastic toy hitting the floor, and resists the urge to rush down there in order to pick it up. 

“No, Amy, I’m not playing that. Han, don’t encourage her. Don’t you dare pick that up for your sister, she’s just going to throw it down again and you know it.” 

The sound of the toy hitting the floor yet again reaches her ears, and she smiles brightly. 

“All right, neither of you listen to me, that’s fine.” 

She can hear the sound of the sieve in one of their big mixing bowls, and peeks downstairs. She nearly reveals herself by laughing, instead covering her mouth with her hand to keep herself hidden. 

Her 4 year old son, Han, is covered in brownie batter. Her husband isn’t faring much better, both of her boys’ pale forearms speckled with brown. She sees her 1 year old daughter in her high chair, her toy on the ground yet again. Han steps off of the stepstool to pick it up for her, casting his sister a toothy smile before returning to the stool to stand by his father. It’s a process that repeats for a few minutes, the desire to be a good big brother overcoming the annoyance Han must feel at getting up and down all the time. 

Ben’s sifting powdered sugar next to Han, his black t-shirt covered in white and brown. He scoops some of the sugar into their shaker, the one they used for dusting Amy’s and Han’s berries with just a bit for of sugar for a treat. He makes sure the lid’s secure before grabbing a cut paper stencil. Rey can see that the brownies are already cut beside him, cooling on the metal rack. Ben puts the stencil on top of one of the brownies and scoots the stool over, son included, so that Han’s right above the rows of pastries. 

“Okay, now shake it over the heart,” he instructs, hands guiding his son’s to shake the shaker over the designated brownie. Han shakes with vigor, covering the rack and a lot of the counter in powdered sugar. But when Ben lifts up the stencil, a relatively clean heart is revealed on the cakey surface. 

“Would you look at that? It actually worked,” Ben says, slightly in awe. “All right, next one.” 

The next one doesn’t come out as perfectly, the heart a little lopsided thanks to the bumping of Ben’s long arm against the cooling rack, but it’s all right. Rey watches, leaning against the bannister, as they finish the rest of the pastries. Han gets bored halfway through, but watches as Ben finishes the batch. He looks around the room, eyes finally landing on his mom sitting on the stairwell. “Mommy!” 

Rey grins, her cover blown, and steps down. She opens her arms and braces herself for impact. She can hear Amy’s exclamation of “Mama!” accompanied by a vicious slap against her high chair tray. If she had a toy, Rey’s sure it would’ve gone flying. She laughs as she feels her son’s sticky skin against hers, scooping her onto her hip with practiced ease. “What’s going on here?” 

“Finn texted me in a panic and asked if we were bringing anything for the bakesale,” Ben explains, wiping his sugar and batter-covered hands on a towel. “I made a batch for him and a batch for us. His has sprinkles.” He jerks his head towards a Tupperware container already set up, ‘DAMERON’ in Sharpie on a sticky note on the lid. 

“All right, you win Dad of the Year,” she teases, walking over with Han. “Are any available for consumption?” 

Ben reaches for a bigger brownie, raising an eyebrow at her. “You can have half.” 

“So generous,” she deadpans, but she grins and opens her mouth for the treat a second later. 

She isn’t expecting for her son to grab it from her. 

“Hey!”

Han’s giggle echoes through the kitchen as she mock-glares at her son, making a mental note to teach him about sharing and what’s his and what’s someone else’s. She opens her mouth to give that talk when a bite of brownie’s slipped between her lips. 

“The kid’s been waiting patiently for hours, let him have half a brownie,” Ben teases, swooping in to give her cheek a kiss. 

She could give a lecture on sharing to Han, and a very long lecture to Ben about how brownies before bed are really not a good idea, but she can’t bring herself to care as she chews on the treat. She frowns as something crunches that is definitely not a sprinkle or a chocolate chip, the piece sharp on her tongue. She resists the urge to smirk as she looks at her husband who's watching for her reaction.

“… all right, which one of you broke the eggs?”


	12. take my jacket, it's cold outside.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hogwarts!AU. Ben Solo is a Hufflepuff and no one can convince me otherwise. Kylo Ren might be a Slytherin, but Ben Solo is a Hufflepuff.

“You’re an idiot.” 

She glares at her boyfriend. “Thanks. That’s just what I wanted to hear today.” 

“What? You are,” he insists as he walks beside her. 

She glares again, and starts walking a bit faster to get away from her. 

“But you’re a cute idiot.” 

“Just shut up, Solo.” 

She shoves her hands in her pockets. The walk to Hogsmeade is long, and she’s really regretting wearing just her borrowed hoodie. If it had been new, it would’ve been fine. But no, it’s one of Ben’s, and it’s been washed enough that whatever warmth it once held is long gone. She huffs, watching as her breath rises from her lips like a dragon’s smoke. She resists the urge to shiver, not wanting to prove that he’d won. 

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” 

“I’m fine, Solo. With all this walking, I’m actually a little hot.” 

“I knew that already.” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

She won’t give him the satisfaction of her teeth chattering, so she clenches them shut in defiance. 

He finally catches up to her, and she can feel the heat of him beside her as they bump arms more than once. She instinctively leans towards the warmth, head tilting to brush against his shoulder. 

“I’m fine,” she insists as he reaches up to wrap his arm around her shoulders. It comes out more snappish than she intended, and she regrets it as his arm returns to his side. 

“Merlin, I just wanted to hold my girlfriend. But apparently that’s not okay anymore,” he mutters as he walks on. She feels a pang of guilt as he shuffles in the snow, large feet making big footsteps, disrupting the winter wonderland. They headed out early, wanting to see the small village untouched by other students. It’ll be bustling later, she just knows, with people purchasing Firewhiskey and huddling together to admire the snow. But for now it’s just them, trudging to Madam Pudifoot’s Tea Shop for tea and coffee. 

She allows herself one small shiver as she catches up to him, but it’s apparently enough for him. The hood of her sweatshirt is tugged backwards, the neck cutting into her throat as Ben holds her back. 

“Stop.” 

She sighs and turns, hands on her hips. Her fingertips are turning pink from the cold. “What is it, Solo?” 

She blinks in surprise as he starts to shimmy out of his coat, revealing the sweatshirt and blazer combo he has on underneath. He reaches out towards her, helping her guide her arms through the large coat. “Ben-“

“I’m not letting you freeze,” he insists. “I know for a fact you’re just wearing a t-shirt under that hoodie. You have no gloves, and no scarf, and no hat. You’re taking my coat whether you like it or not.” He takes her hands once they’ve been pushed through his sleeves, abandoning his gloves before blowing on them and kissing her fingertips. “Shit, Rey, your fingers are like ice.” 

“Sorry,” she mutters, not quite sure what she’s apologizing for. He holds her fingers between his hands for a few more moments, his skin warm from the charmed gloves he’d bought at Madam Malkin's at the beginning of the year. 

“Just promise me you won’t let your pride get in the way of your health?” he growls. “I know you’re not a Ravenclaw, but use your brain, please.” 

She snorts, leaning towards him and tilting her face up for a kiss. “Fine,” she agrees against her lips. “But you’re letting me pay for the coffee.” 

“I’m not agreeing to that.” 

“Shut up, Solo.”

She does have to admit that she feels a lot warmer as she snuggles into his side, and the fact that Finn notes that she smells like Ben for hours afterwards is an added perk she'll happily accept.


	13. sorry i'm late.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> modern!AU

The ice in her water’s melting. She finds herself staring at the three pathetic pieces, too small to even be called cubes at this point. It was once half full of ice. 

It’s been a half hour. 

She can tell that the waiters and the hostess are talking. The hostess keeps on glancing over to her table, bare aside from a candle, two menus and two glasses of water. She’s taking up precious space in a busy restaurant, she knows. And she’s nearly positive they think she’s been stood up by her date. 

Perhaps she has. 

She’ll wait another ten minutes, she decides, looking at her phone. Two calls and three texts have since gone unanswered, his name in red at the top of her call list. She bites her lip, before deciding that she can’t wait, not anymore. She stands, getting ready to leave, when a man approaches her.

She blinks at him. “Kylo?” She frowns at the other man. “What are you doing here?” 

“Sorry I’m late,” he mutters at her as he walks behind her and pulls her chair out. “Ran into some traffic on the way over.” 

He’s not her boyfriend. Her boyfriend, Hux, has red hair and a charming smile, always dressed to the nines. And he’s never, ever been late. 

Kylo’s leather jacket’s dotted with rain, and he looks like he’s just got out of classes - his hair mussed from his habit of running his hand through it during lectures. She lets him push her in, leaving her jacket on the back of the chair and her purse on the floor beside it. 

“Where’s Hux?” she asks, frowning. He shrugs as he picks up the menu. 

“No idea,” he admits. “Would you like wine?” 

Something stronger actually sound a lot better, but she offers her opinion on the bottle, and he orders for the both of them when the waiter comes around. 

As soon as the man’s gone, she turns to her ‘date’, resting her elbow on the table and then her chin in her hand as she stares him down. “Kylo, what are you doing here?” she demands. “I -“

“Was sitting alone in a restaurant looking pathetic,” he says as he reaches for the bread and butter. “I saw you through the window.” 

“Did you stalk me?!” 

“No,” he says. “I was walking by and felt your disappointment down the street.”

She groans and lets her head fall into her hand. “I’m fine, Kylo. You don’t have to be here. Hux is on his way, I’m sure of it.”   
He hums noncommittally as he chews his bread, gaze level with hers. 

They both jump a bit when her phone starts to buzz against the white table cloth. They stare at the name at the top, HUX in big capitals along with a red heart next to the letters. She casts a glance towards Kylo, who waves one pale hand dismissively as he takes a sip of the now just cool water. She scrambles for it, sliding the bar and putting the phone to her ear. “Hello?” 

“Hey, love. I was wondering where you were. I went to pick you up after classes and you weren’t there.” 

Her heart sinks. Kylo’s staring at her, and she honestly has no idea if he can hear Hux or not, but she turns away from him slightly. “I’m at the restaurant.” 

“What restaurant?” 

“… you forgot, didn’t you?” She doesn’t mean to be snappish, not really, but it’s incredibly hard not to. The reservation’s been set for a month, she’s had the dress and heels for a week, and she even did her makeup and her hair for it. She doesn't want to impress him, not really, but his constant complaining about her sweatpants and t-shirts is getting on her nerves and she wanted to prove a point.

She hears him suck in a breath. “Shit,” he mutters. “I forgot. I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind.” 

“You made the reservation,” she tells him bitterly. 

“I know, I know I did, and I was really excited for it, really, I just-“ 

“Just what?” 

“It slipped my mind, okay? I forgot. Next month?” he offers. "Or, you know, I can make it up to you when I get home..."

She knows exactly what he's insinuating, and closes her eyes with a shuddery sigh. The word spills from her lips before she can stop it. “No.” 

“… no?” 

“No,” she confirms. She casts quick glance back towards Kylo. He’s looking steadily at his piece of bread, buttering the same piece over and over again. “And don’t bother picking me up.” 

“Love-“ 

“Don’t ‘love’ me,” she snaps. “I put effort into this, and you went and fucking forgot. This was supposed to be a break, Hux. This was a supposed to be a reward for passing my exams, and you forgot. Just … don’t bother, okay?” 

He apparently doesn’t have anything to offer, as there’s stunned silence on the other line. She sighs and hangs up, bending to slip the phone into her purse. It buzzes a few seconds later, no doubt him trying to call her back. She kicks at the bag instead, waiting until it stops. 

Kylo has his water glass in his hand, staring at her with big brown eyes. “So no Hux?” he questions. 

She doesn’t cry often. It takes a lot, a hell of a lot, to push her. But with a shake of her head her eyes are suddenly smarting, the eyeliner she’d bought specifically for the occasion making her eyes sting as tears start to form. She grabs her napkin from her lap and starts to dab at her eyes, before deciding ‘fuck it all’ and just wiping, not caring about the black smudges. “He fucking forgot,” she mutters. 

It’s not a surprise, honestly. She’s lost count of how many times she’s been forgotten about. It actually makes her laugh bitterly through the tears, shaking her head again as she tries to dry her eyes. “Honestly, I should’ve expected it,” she admits. “Everyone forgets about me at some point or another.” 

She’s not expecting a pity party, or even any kind of consolation from the dark man in front of her, but she’s expecting something aside from a blank stare. As soon as her eyes stop stinging, she glares at him. “I’m fine. Just … go, or something. I’ll get the check.” 

He still doesn’t say anything, staring at her. 

“I’m okay, really,” she insists, offering another humorless laugh. “I’m used to it.” 

“You shouldn’t be.” 

Of all the things that could’ve fallen from the mouth of her classmate, that was certainly the farthest from what she was expecting. She stares at him as he just shrugs, slipping out of his leather jacket and setting it on the back of his chair. Underneath he wears a black v-neck t-shirt, revealing a starkly pale collarbone and broad shoulders. He leans forward on the table, arms crossed. “I don’t get how someone could forget about you,” he admits. 

“It’s pretty easy, apparently,” she retorts. 

He just shrugs. “Not for me.” 

She stares at him as the waiter comes and pours the wine. Kylo thanks him, before opening the menu and ordering for both of them. She continues to stare as the waiter takes the menus away. 

“Figured I’d get two different things, and if you don’t like yours we can switch,” he explains, returning to lean on the table again. 

“Kylo, what are you doing?” 

It’s a question she really should’ve asked earlier. She runs a hand through her hair, unused to it falling around her shoulders instead of being up in a messy bun like it usually is. “I mean, not that I don’t appreciate it, but-“

“You don’t deserve him.” 

She blinks in shock at him. “… sorry?” she demands. 

He shakes his head, dark hair floating around his face. She watches as he echoes her earlier move, his fingers running through his locks. “That came out wrong,” he mutters. “I meant that he doesn’t deserve you.” 

“Oh.” 

Well, what’s she supposed to with that information? She looks down at the table cloth, and then stares at the bread he pushes in front of her. 

“You didn’t eat lunch.” 

“How would you know?” 

“I sat at the same table,” he says levelly. Oh. That’s right. He had, next to her boyfriend. 

Could he still be considered her boyfriend, now? She'll give him the chance to explain, yes, but his absence on a night that was supposed to be theirs still hurt more than she'd like to admit. It's stupid, and it's petty, and she should probably call him back and tell him that it's all right and she knows he didn't mean to. 

She groans, putting her head in his hands. “Look, Kylo-“ 

“Do you want to get coffee sometime?” 

She looks up at him and sighs. “Kylo-“ 

“I’ve liked you since I saw your ratty duffel bag rip open in the middle of the quad,” he admits, and she wants to hide her face again in embarrassment. Oh, God, day 1 of freshman year was a complete and utter disaster. 

“That was-“ 

“I liked you even more when you threw a pen at my head.” 

She hides a smile behind her palm at the memory of the tall man dozing in the front row, in very near danger of getting in trouble. “In my defense, Professor Skywalker looked like he was about to rip you a new one.” 

The man across from her snorts. ".. and I fell in love with you when you started dancing in the rain like it was the best thing in the world.” 

She feels blood rush to her cheeks. He saw her? She’d thought no one was around. It was nearly 2 in the morning on a Tuesday, after all, when the rain started coming from the sky in sheets. Arizona rarely got that much, so she’d stepped out in sweatpants and a t-shirt and came back absolutely soaking wet but smiling, leaving puddles in the hallway on the way back to her room.

“And when you started dating Hux … those feelings didn't exactly go away,” he confesses. 

She looks down at where her phone is sitting in her purse. She looks back at him. “… you remembered all that?”

“And a lot more,” he admits. 

She pushes her purse under her chair a bit more, ignoring the vibration of her phone as Hux texts her again. 

“I’m free every day after 3:30?” she offers. "Is Friday too soon?"

She’s not entirely sure she’s ever seen the man across from her smile, but now that she’s seeing it, she knows she wants it to happen a lot more often.


	14. can i have this dance?

She hates these sorts of things. There is such thing as too much pomp and too much splendor, but the aristocratic class doesn’t seem to believe her. Laughter flows as easily as the champagne being passed around, and she huffs, trying to rearrange herself only slightly in her corset. Alas, luck is not on her side, as her maids forced her into the thing and tied it so tightly she can barely breathe. Her breasts may look magnificent, but what difference does it make if she can’t take a full breath?

The lord she’s currently dancing with is an older man. He is kind, she’ll say that much, but he also talks enough for three men. She’s heard about his recent trip to France and his trip for business to Switzerland, and the difference between the two, and which one he prefers, and which one he would gladly take her to. The song drones on and on as he does, and the moment the last note ends, she breathes a sigh of relief (or at least as much of one as her corset will allow.)

“Another dance, dear princess?”

“I’m quite parched, actually, but I sincerely thank you for the pleasure of being your partner,” she lies, curtsying properly before rushing off to fetch some champagne. A gold-rimmed glass is slid into her gloved hand, and she indulges in a few sips as she watches the next dance begin. 

“Forgive me if I am intruding, but I have to ask if I could have the next dance.”

She knows this voice. She loathes this voice. 

“Lord Plutt,” she says, forcing a smile to the pig-faced, pig-bodied noble, his face looking as though someone slammed the door in his face a bit too hard. “A pleasure to see you again, as always.” Perhaps the biggest lie she’s ever told. 

“You get more beautiful every day,” the old man says, his gaze shifting to her chest, and she resists the urge to vomit into her champagne glass. “So?”

“So what, my lord?”

“The next dance, may I-“

“Can I have this dance?”

She thanks God silently for her savior, and turns, offering a soft smile to the man beside her. “Yes, sir, I would be-“

She stops, her eyes going wide as she recognizes Ben Solo, dressed in no doubt a borrowed jacket and trousers. She knows the truth, knows he’s been assisting his uncle, the royal physician, but most days he just runs errands and helps the cooks. Despite his blood, he has no place here, but it makes her all the more eager to take his hand. His gaze makes her heart skip a beat, his dark eyes warm and soft as he offers his gloved hand to her. 

“Yes,” she breathes, taking his hand and hearing Plutt huff in annoyance. “It would be my pleasure to dance with you.”

His smirk is as soft as his eyes, but puts an entirely different sort of warmth through her as she steps closer, the orchestra striking up a charming little waltz. Already she can see couples moving closer, and her breath hitches at his hand on her waist. 

So much better than Plutt, she decides, as she’s swept up into the man’s arms. And - dare she say it, as she observes the gentle way he holds her, the wave of his hair, and the depth of his gaze that goes beyond her pushed-up breasts and painted lips - so much better better than any other man here.


	15. i made your favourite.

The bakery is doing well, all things considered. She has several regulars, now, and has memorized a few of their orders, even. Despite the stress of opening a new business, she’s still optimistic, and continues to draw smiley faces on the cups next to the customers’ names. Peonies and roses still occupy the collection of white vases scattered everywhere, gathered meticulously from thrift and charity shops. Nothing’s gone wrong yet, but she’s still on her toes, knowing that there’s always something that will.

The door dings with the first customer of the day, and she turns, ready to greet them with a smile. 

When she sees who just walked through the door, her grin widens until her cheeks ache something awful. 

For the past three weeks, she’s had the same first customer, every single morning. 

“I thought you had a meeting this morning,” she croons, leaning on the counter and looking up at her boyfriend, all dressed up in his work suit, on the way to his office. Figures that he would be wrapped up in the finance world, while she’s running a little bakery and café.

“I have to have my coffee,” Kylo replies, voice low and a little groggy. She’s willing to bet he got up earlier just so he could stop by, just so he could walk into his meeting with a cup of her coffee, brewed fresh and just the way he likes it. 

“Let me get that for you,” she says, and she’s rewarded with her boyfriend leaning over the counter to give her a chaste kiss. When they first started dating, she didn’t think he was capable of chaste, sweet kisses like this, like the ones old married couples exchange. But to her surprise, he gives them to her by the dozens, and she smiles against his lips each time. 

“I made your favourite,” she says as she pulls away to start the espresso machine. There’s no one else in, not yet. The morning rush usually comes around 8, but she opens at for the runners who sometimes come by and enjoy their juices and egg white sandwiches. “Dark chocolate butterscotch muffins. Want one for the road?”

When she turns back around to grab a cup and slip it beneath the espresso machine, he’s staring at her like she just sprouted angel wings and a halo just popped above her head. She blinks at him in return, surprised as she goes to reach for a pastry bag. 

“I … does that mean you want one?” she asks, laughter in her voice as his eyes follow her like a dog following a treat. “Yeah, you want one.” She actually laughs this time, and watches her normally dark and moody boyfriend, always the brooding one, always just a little sad – he perks up like a puppy, a slight smile reaching his plush lips as she pulls a muffin from the case and slips it into the bag. She grabs the Sharpie from the pen cup, the one she normally uses for writing orders, and because she’s feeling like a sap today, she draws a big heart on the front of the bag. It’s a little warped, because of the muffin, but it still looks kind of like a heart. More like a kindergartener’s version of a heart, but still, a heart nonetheless.

“Here you go,” she says, setting the muffin on the counter before turning back to the coffee machine. His espresso is ready, and so she pulls the cup from the machine and pops a lid on it before turning back around. Immediately she’s kissed, and she wonders just how far her boyfriend is leaning over the counter to accomplish such a feat. Laughing against his mouth, she sets the coffee down so that she can tangle both hands in his dark hair. 

“I love you, too,” he mumbles, and she grins. 

“Now when did I say it first?”

“When you made those muffins,” he explains, and she hears the crinkle of a paper bag from somewhere below them.

“I’ll just have to make them a permanent menu item, then.”

The sound that comes from him can only be described as a sort of growl, and she laughs before she pushes him away. “Go, go to your meeting!”

“One more?” he asks, and she decides to indulge him, leaning in and kissing him just one more time. 

"How's that for you?"

“No, I meant one more muffin.”


End file.
